


Cradle Songs Of Comfort

by sealdog



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealdog/pseuds/sealdog
Summary: “Hello, Corvo.”Corvo resists the urge to spin around. It’s too late, and he’s too weary.“Long time no see,” he says instead, watching the Outsider in the mirror. He looks the same, even after these years, which is comforting, somehow.The Outsider doesn’t laugh, but his eyes narrow a bit, and there’s an amused lilt to his voice as he says, “Long time indeed.”---Corvo has a habit of kissing the Mark before he heads out.Set between DH1 and DH2, but no spoilers for the latter





	

**Author's Note:**

> [kiwiitin](http://kiwiitin.tumblr.com) brought up the idea of Corvo kissing the mark, and it got stuck in my head :'| i hope u like it bb!!
> 
> ps: i haven't played dishonored 2, or watched any playthroughs of it bc i dont wanna get spoilered, so deets might not line up w dh2 canon, sry in advance!!

Corvo doesn’t know when it started becoming a habit. He only really notices he does it, when Emily gives him an odd look from where she’s perched on top of a gargoyle, a few meters away from him.

He returns her look with a questioning one of his own.

“Why do you do that?” Emily asks, gesturing at Corvo’s hand. “Kiss the Mark, every night before you head out.”

Corvo glances down at his own hand, at the dark lines of the Mark there. It’s quiet and dark, no glowing or burning, and he flexes his fingers experimentally, switching from Darkvision to Blink just to see it light up. It does, a familiar soft glow, and Corvo lowers his hand, not making eye contact with Emily as he shrugs.

“Focus,” he says gruffly, and Blinks over to the next building’s roof without waiting for her reply.

There’s a faint snort behind him, and he knows that she meant for him to hear that, because her movement across the roofs is completely silent. He feels her presence settle next to him as a brush of faintly leather-scented air against his side.

“So, what’s on for today?” Emily crouches next to him, eyes bright as she scans the rooftops spread out in front of them. “Tracking? Hide and seek?”

Corvo thinks it over for a second, going over what they’ve done for the past few sessions. These private moments have been few and far between lately, between Emily’s daytime responsibilities and Corvo’s own. It’s been a while since they last had a chase though. Too long, and from the way Emily is shifting restlessly-- quietly, but restlessly nonetheless, she’s itching for a run.

“Catch me,” Corvo says, and Blinks across two buildings over, and then again. He hears Emily’s laughter, loud and unfettered, bright in the muted silence of the night, and then they’re off.

\---

He starts noticing it, now that Emily’s pointed it out. At first, he makes an effort to stop doing it, but it feels odd, puts him off-kilter, takes some of the... _rightness_ out of his night time adventures. After a while, he gives up, tells himself that it’s not like anybody will know anyway, and continues doing it.

After all, the only person who might know hasn’t appeared in either visions or dreams for years now.

Sometimes, Corvo thinks he catches a glimpse of a young man with eyes darker than they should be, and it never fails to give him a jolt.

(He doesn’t know if the tight feeling in his chest when it turns out to be an ordinary man is relief or disappointment.)

\---

The night starts out like many other nights, Corvo on the rooftops, alone since Emily is off with her Wyman. It ends with a mis-Blink, a tumble down a particularly high building, and a dislocated shoulder. He returns to his room in Dunwall Tower with his arm held tightly to his side, wryly thinking that the only thing to cap off the entire night is if he looked into the mirror and found yet another streak of grey in his hair. It doesn’t help that the cold months are beginning to set in, and he’s beginning to feel small aches and twinges in his bones in the mornings when he first wakes up.

Resetting his shoulder by himself is easy enough, even if he has to bite down on a strap of leather. The bottle of whiskey on his bedside table helps.

Just for his own amusement, he checks the mirror before he heads to bed. There’s no new grey in his hair, but there _is_ a familiar pair of unnaturally dark eyes, watching him.

“Hello, Corvo.”

Corvo resists the urge to spin around. It’s too late, and he’s too weary.

“Long time no see,” he says instead, watching the Outsider in the mirror. He looks the same, even after these years, which is comforting, somehow.

The Outsider doesn’t laugh, but his eyes narrow a bit, and there’s an amused lilt to his voice as he says, “Long time indeed.”

Corvo turns around, half sure that he won’t see the Outsider outside of the mirror, but he’s there, hovering so that he’s looking down slightly at Corvo, dark eyes still narrowed, and arms crossed over his chest.

They stare at each other for a long moment, Corvo just taking in the sight of the Outsider after so long. Now that he’s looking closely, he can spot a few differences. The Outsider’s hair is less ruffled than before, like somebody ran their fingers through it in an attempt to neaten it. His face looks a bit thinner, the shadows in his eyes echoed beneath his cheekbones.

The Outsider is the first to break the silence, one hand coming untucked from the crossed positions of his arms to gesture at Corvo’s shoulder.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you so ungraceful. Has it been so long that age has started to make its claim on you?” The Outsider’s fingers brush over Corvo’s shoulder. Corvo watches the fingers make contact with his jacket, but there’s no pressure. When he looks up, the Outsider is watching him.

Corvo’s hand goes up self-consciously to his temple at the Outsider’s words, where the first streak of grey came. The Outsider’s hand drifts back to its previous crossed position. His eyes are as dark and impenetrable as ever, but Corvo feels the weight of his attention on his temple.

“Maybe,” Corvo admits. “It’s been quite a few years now.”

“So it has,” the Outsider agrees. “A pity you missed out on your night’s adventures. They have been enjoyable to watch. I would offer you another chance at your run, in a place where falling has less consequence on your body.”

There’s a glimmer of- something in his eyes, and Corvo finds himself responding to it, despite the ache in his shoulder, and the call of his bed.

The Outsider actually smiles, thin lips barely twitching, but more than Corvo has ever seen them move.

“Go to bed, Corvo. Come find me in the Void.”

And then he’s gone, with only a faint scent of burning salt to mark his presence.

Bemused, but feeling the faint thrill of the chase thrumming through his veins, Corvo goes to pull his boots off and get into bed. He doesn’t think sleep will come soon, not when he feels that same tension that he gets when he’s standing on the edge of a roof, with the city spread before him. Yet somehow, and he’s not discounting a certain supernatural being, he only stares up at his ceiling for a few minutes before he blinks once, twice, and falls into sleep.

Corvo opens his eyes to the familiar haunting sight of the Void, skies and seas mingled in empty-not-empty expanse. He’s standing on the broken ledge of a rooftop, staring out over a field of islands and oddly shaped debris, echoes and vestiges of a city that once was, or that would come to be.

And a hundred yards off, atop the highest point visible all around (for a relative value of high, given that up and down don’t quite feel entirely like they are where they should be), stands a familiar pool of inky darkness, which even as Corvo stares at it, coalesces into the familiar form of the Outsider, arms crossed over his chest, and dark eyes intent even from this distance.

Corvo rolls his shoulder, admiring how the ache from its dislocation is entirely missing, here in the Void. He raises his hand, presses his lips against the Mark, and _feels_ the Outsider’s attention sharpen on him, and then he’s off.

The ruins of the Void are-- odd, and interesting to navigate, to say the least. Sometimes Corvo blinks over to what he thinks is a higher location, only to find himself staring up from the bottom of an entirely different island. It’s both like and unlike traversing Dunwall’s rooftops, and it’s _exhilarating_. He scrambles up brick walls that crumbles beneath his hands, makes jumps that could never have happened in the waking world, not even when he was at his physical peak, and blinks across distances that blur past him. Unlike in the waking world, he can Blink with abandon, which is a novelty in and of itself, but just part of the experience, here in the Void.

And always, the figure of the Outsider is there, watching Corvo. He changes positions, when Corvo gets close enough, flickering just out of reach.

But eventually, finally, Corvo pulls himself up and over a ledge, and the Outsider is there, in front of him, dark eyes cool and steady as he watches Corvo push himself into a standing position.

When Corvo’s fully straightened up, the Outsider is less than a meter from him, inky swirls at his feet spreading to brush against Corvo’s legs. It’s odd, but Corvo swears that the places where they brush over feel-- _warm_ , somehow.

“How was your run?” The Outsider leans forward a little, clasping his hands behind his back.

“It was...interesting,” Corvo admits. The thrill of the chase still thrums through him, muted more now that it’s somewhat satisfied. He raises his hand, and flexes it, still feeling the burn of the Mark across the back of it. The Outsider’s eyes dart immediately to it, and there’s a sudden tension in his body, startlingly obvious given his usual unnatural grace.

“Does it burn?” He asks, eyes still fixed on it.

“A little. You can tell?”

The Outsider hums, head tilting marginally. “An unintended side effect. As are many things about you. It’s what makes you interesting.” He reaches forward, and takes Corvo’s hand, raising it to examine. His hands are larger than expected, broad with long, blunt fingers. They look very pale against the scarred knuckles of Corvo’s Marked hand.

When he runs a finger over the Mark, Corvo _feels_ it, like there’s something within him being pulled taut and to the surface, all his awareness shifted down to where the Outsider’s finger traces over the lines. The Mark glows beneath his touch, brighter where he traces. As he finishes the last line, it flares, and Corvo takes in a ragged breath, lets it out again in a slow hiss.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” The Outsider says, nail tapping against the Mark as he watches Corvo.

“Yeah.” Corvo laughs shakily. “I felt that.”

The Outsider lifts Corvo’s hand to his mouth. Corvo watches, breath stuck in his throat. When he presses his lips to it, Corvo nearly staggers at the feeling that washes through him, has to grab at the Outsider’s hand to keep himself upright. His eyes are wide, and he can feel himself staring at the Outsider dumbly, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“What-- What was that?” The words come out as a wheeze, as he gathers his composure and stands, albeit a little bit more shakily than he would have preferred.

“What I felt, every time you did that.” The Outsider doesn’t take Corvo’s hand away from his lips, and Corvo feels his breath, warm against the cold burn of the Mark. His eyes are fixed on Corvo’s, their empty blackness somehow assessing.

“Oh.”

“Yes,” The Outsider agrees. “ _Oh_ indeed.” He smiles, and presses his lips against Corvo’s Mark once again, and this time, Corvo can’t hold back the whine that escapes him, or the way he leans heavily against the Outsider, resting against the Outsider’s chest as he rides out the sensations.

It feels like it should be almost sexual, the way his entire body reacts to it, but at the same time, it’s _more_ than that. There’s a sense of-- of being dropped into a vastness, of feeling everything and anything all at once, and he wonders if this is what the Outsider normally feels. Except that the Outsider had said that this was what _Corvo_ made him feel.

Breathing heavily, Corvo straightens up. He leaves his unmarked hand where it rests on the Outsider’s arm, fingertips rubbing absently at the texture of the Outsider’s jacket.

“What do you mean?” Corvo asks eventually, “How would my doing- that, what--” He shakes his head, trying to clear it.

“The connection between the Void and myself…” The Outsider shrugs. “It tends to be impersonal. Moments like this, my Mark on you, your intentions behind your actions, my mouth to your mark.” He smiles again, faintly. Three times already tonight, he’s smiled. Not that Corvo’s keeping count or anything. “Like a spark to one of your tanks of whale oil, except rather less explosive.”

“I’m not sure I’d discount that explosiveness,” Corvo says wryly, still feeling the aftershocks washing through him.

The Outsider raises an eyebrow, looking amused, and releases Corvo’s hand. “And now you know.”

Corvo lets his hand drop, flexing the fingers as he watches the Outsider. “Why?” He asks eventually. There are many things he wants to ask, like where the Outsider has been for all these years, what the Outsider meant when he said Corvo’s nighttime expeditions had been fun to watch, and why the Outsider was choosing to show him the effect of a kiss on the Mark now of all times, when Corvo had been doing it for years now. A simple “why” doesn’t really quite cut it, but he gets the feeling that the Outsider knows exactly what Corvo means.

The Outsider drifts closer, until his face is only a few inches from Corvo’s own. It’s impassive, his eyes are pools of inky twilight, and even though Corvo’s standing on solid ground (or so he hopes), he somehow feels- off balance, almost.

“You are...special to me, Corvo.” The Outsider says, brow crinkling minutely beneath his hair. It makes him look very young. Corvo has the odd urge to go and mess it up, but he refrains. “Tumultuous times are coming, and I wanted you to know that I would be watching.”

Corvo stiffens, suddenly alert. _Tumultuous times_ sounds almost like a warning.

“You will see, when the time comes.” The Outsider tilts his head, still watching Corvo. “And...I thought you might want to know, that was all.”

Corvo wonders if the Outsider means for him to stop his habit. Somehow, he doesn’t think so.

The Outsider smiles, for the fourth time tonight. “I wonder what you will do with this information,” he says, echoing Corvo’s own thoughts. “I have no doubt that you will, as always, make an interesting choice.”

He leans forward, and Corvo feels something brush against his forehead, just as the dream world dissolves around him, and he finds himself blinking up at the ceiling of his bedroom. The sun is up, and he can hear the buzz of the palace’s morning activity going on outside, muted through the door.

Corvo rolls out of bed with a grunt, and rubs at his face. It takes him a long moment to realise that the ache in his shoulder is gone, like he’d never dislocated it last night, and that there is a bone charm on his pillow, next to where his head had lain. He picks it up to examine, and feels the responding warmth of the charm against his fingers.

“Thank you,” Corvo says aloud to the empty room.

Before he leaves the room to attend to his daytime duties, he presses another kiss to the Mark on the back of his hand, feeling a thrill at knowing exactly what it does to the Outsider. It might be his imagination but, in response, he swears the charm in his hand burns warmer for just an instant.

Smiling to himself, Corvo leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://ssealdog.tumblr.com) :D


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